Saving You (From Yourself)
by Absolutelypositivelyunsure
Summary: After Charlotte dies, Bellamy chains up Murphy to torture him. Although Charlotte may be dead, Bellamy feels like he's gone as well and there's only one person that can bring him back to life.


"Bellamy, don't do this," Octavia pleaded, "this isn't who we are, this isn't who _you _are."

"You don't think he deserves this? You don't think he deserves to feel pain and feel like he wants to die? Because that's what I'm feeling now." Bellamy snapped. He wanted Murphy dead, but that was too easy, too quick and too painless. He wanted Murphy to feel pain and as much as he didn't want to admit it, he wanted to be the one to inflict that pain.

He threw Murphy's unconscious body into the drop ship. He'd already spent some time punching him, but it was time for it to really begin. Bellamy tied Murphy's hands up and his head sagged down, with a small sob of pain escaping him.

Charlotte was dead. When she'd jumped off the cliff, he'd felt the same way he had when his mother had been floated; grief, regret, but most of all, responsibility. It was all his fault, Bellamy thought, as he looked down seeing the blood of his mother and Charlotte on his hands.

Realistically he knew it wasn't all on him; that Murphy shared some blame, and, he cursed himself for even thinking it, so did Clarke. Her intentions had been good, but she didn't know how people were. They could be ruthless and bloodthirsty. After all, they were criminals. She may have been locked up, but she sure as hell wasn't one of them. She was good. But Bellamy had to concede she wasn't as pure as he had initially suspected. Clarke did what had to be done. She wasn't simply pure, she was a survivor too.

Since they had landed on Earth, the princess had continued to surprise him. Just when he thought he had completely figured her out, suddenly she did the opposite of what he would have predicted. God, why was he thinking of her? He hated her. He hated her privilege, her stubbornness and her big blue eyes that bored holes into his when she thought he was being impulsive. He tried to empty his mind of Clarke, but it's hard to shake something that's already under your skin, he thought.

Murphy moaned again, capturing Bellamy's attention once more. He couldn't think of her anymore, he had work to do. He reached to his belt, searching for his knife but then remembered he had left in his tent. First checking if Murphy was perfectly secured, he headed down the ladder and to his tent. He ignored everyone around him, asking him about Murphy. They all seemed like nameless faces and he shrugged them off. Clarke was not among them and this worried his momentarily. Princess letting him torture someone? That didn't add up. She'd been first in line to kick his ass for something like this. After grabbing his knife, he spotted Jasper a few yards away. "Where's Clarke?" he asked quietly in Jasper's ear.

Jasper looked dejectedly down, "She's at the cliff." Jasper looked at him knowingly, "I'll go with you."

"No, you stay here. Go guard the drop ship. No one goes in," Bellamy ordered. Jasper just stared at him, "No one gets in alright?" he uttered desperately. Jasper just nodded and headed to his post.

Jade, no, Joanne? Well whatever-her-name-was came up in front of Bellamy, pushing herself up against him. He'd slept with her sometime in the first week and ever since, she'd been following him around the camp.

"Hey, you okay? We could go take your mind off it if you want." Her hands slipped into his belt loops as she looked at him mischievously. He stepped back, shaking his head. She was the last thing he wanted.

He wandered off to the spot… the spot…that it had happened. He saw the blonde hair through the trees; she was sitting on the grass with her back to him.

xxx

She was thinking of the day her father had been floated. That was the day that everything had changed. That day she had seen the world for it really was: full of merciless and cold-blooded beings. He had tried to save everyone on the Ark but instead had turned out to be the one that had needed saving. And she hadn't. She hadn't saved him. And she hadn't saved Charlotte. Today she had forgotten how vicious people truly were and it had cost someone their life.

Ever since Charlotte had jumped, words she'd read years ago were endlessly repeating in her mind. _"The dead do not come back to life; instead you carry your dead with you, within you."_ Those words somehow had stuck in her mind and seemed much too appropriate right now. Charlotte was dead and it was entirely her fault. She might as well have strung up Murphy in the noose and put Charlotte up there as well.

Silent tears fell on her face; she'd stopped trying to hold them back and had finally given in. There was no one to see her break down so it didn't matter. She didn't have to hide them and she was pretty sure she wouldn't have been able to anyways. Her grief was flooding her system and there was nothing that could stop it.

She heard a crack behind her and jumped up, thinking it was a grounder. And then she saw him, he looked terrible. Bellamy looked like how she imagined she looked like now, except even on his worst day he somehow managed to look appealing. He was looking at her with… what was that on his face? And then she realized he was looking at her with pity. Fuck him. Fuck his pity.

"Hey," he murmured. He stepped closer to her and with the moon in his face, she saw him clearer. He was almost unrecognizable now, without a scowl or a smirk plastered on to his face. She realized he'd been crying too and reached up to wipe her face clean, wanting to rid his of the tiny tears as well. She nearly reached her hands to his face but thought better of it. Instead she grabbed his shirt in her hands and proceeded to sob into his chest. She felt him briefly tense up at their contact but then he wrapped his arms around her and "Oh princess."

She didn't know how long she cried for but eventually she had tired herself out and Bellamy had picked her up and taken her into her tent. She fell asleep almost instantly, still cradled in his arms.

xxx

She didn't know where she was when she first opened her eyes. This wasn't her tent. Why was she in someone else's tent? This was Bellamy's tent, she thought. It was grandiose and much too large for any one person. She was freezing so why did her skin feel like it had been previously scathing, as if there were invisible burns plastered on it that only she could see.

And then it all came back to her. Charlotte, dead. Murphy, probably dead by now. Bellamy. Bellamy, where was Bellamy? She'd fallen asleep with him around her and now she couldn't remember what she felt like outside of his grasp, he'd left an imprint on her that she couldn't shake.

As Clarke left the tent, she saw Octavia sitting beside Jasper with her head on his shoulder. "Bellamy?" was all she got out. Octavia glanced at the drop ship, but immediately grabbed Clarke's arm.

"Don't go in there. He's… He has Murphy," Octavia confessed. Clarke was surprised Murphy was still alive; she'd figure Bellamy would've taken care of him by now. But there it was, Bellamy surprising her again. Just like when she'd found him kneeling down beside Atom, even when it was out of mercy, Bellamy Blake was not a killer.

And she wouldn't let that change.

She trudged off to the drop ship and slowly climbed up the ladder. Bellamy was sitting down, deflated, with his back up against the wall. Clarke sat down next to him, but didn't say a word. She looked at Murphy; other than the cuts and bruises on his face, his body was clean of wounds. Bellamy hadn't done anything more to him. How long had he sat here? Taunting both Murphy and himself with the possibility of torture. "Bellamy, you're not a killer," He turned his head and stared her down. Clarke didn't say this convince him or to stop him but because it was the truth.

"Yes, I am. I may not have killed Jaha, but I meant to. And I as good as killed Charlotte," he sighed. She shook her head. None of it was true, how could Bellamy possibly believe that?

"No, you're not a killer. You may be a lot of things, but you're not a killer." Clarke stated. He got up, heading towards Murphy. She knew he wasn't going to do anything, he'd had plenty of time already to let out his anger but he hadn't. She also knew he wouldn't do it in front of her, she was certain of that.

"Why are you stopping me? Why the hell are you trying to save him?" Bellamy asked, warily. He was breaking at the seams, she noticed. He was coming apart and she wasn't sure she wanted to see this and she knew she couldn't save him. She couldn't save anyone.

He closed in on Murphy, but his knife was still stagnant at his side.

"Because you shouldn't have to carry this with you," she spoke softly, finding her place beside him. "Bellamy," she said it with such desperation that he turned and looked at her, "Bellamy," she repeated. She put her hands on either side of his face. "Please Bellamy," she said, barely audible.

"Stop it! Clarke, just - just don't. Stop saying my name like that!" Bellamy yelled.

"Like what?"

"Like you're trying to remind me who I am!" He was shaking, the knife in his hands now inches away from Murphy's throat.

"Bellamy," she breathed. And this time it worked. The knife crashed to the floor and he buried his head into her shoulder.

"Thank you," he cried, then he removed his head from her embrace and evened his eyes with her.

And this was when Clarke realized, that despite Bellamy's darkness, all the rugged and damaged parts just made the rest of him shine.

His lips came crashing down on hers and the only thing she could think was that it was incredibly overdue.

**A/N: I know I changed the order of some canon things, but it was just for convenience.**

**Please review!**


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